Ugh.
I find him in his study, alone. He’s at his desk doing paperwork—probably for his legit investments. He has so much to do every day with all his different endeavors, but he shoulders it all like it’s nothing. He’s used to it. Mateo walks around with the weight of all our worlds balanced on his capable shoulders, and he somehow carries it like it gives him added strength instead of weighing him down.
I realize I’m already feeling a little generous toward him. Probably because I just stuck my neck out for him like a dumbass, allowing him to come between me and the first person who has ever given a damn about me.
Instead of walking straight to the chair in front of his desk, I go to the alcohol cart and grab myself a glass. “Want anything?”
“Sure,” he replies, shuffling the papers and setting them aside, since I’m clearly not just here to say hi.
I stare at the amber liquid as I pour it into our glasses, my problems still heavy on my mind. The craziest thought occurs to me—what if I just told him? What if I came clean? What if I appealed to him as a sister, explained that Sal is on his side? I could be sort of a bridge between our families.
Only I can’t, because Sal’s father is the head of his family, and apparently he will never accept me.
I hate the stress of keeping secrets from Mateo though. Especially because people almost never succeed in keeping secrets from Mateo, so he probably will find out. It will be just like Vince’s situation then, and considering Vince’s mood lately, that’s not an aspirational endgame.
Now I head to Mateo’s desk with the alcohol, scooting his across for him and taking a seat in the chair.
“Hard night?” he asks.
I shrug, since I can’t share, and take a gulp. I hate the taste of liquor, especially the strong-ass shit that he stocks in those decanters, but what the hell?
“You’ve been missing a lot of dinners lately,” he remarks.
Unease prickles, traveling down my spine. This was a bad idea. I need to tread carefully.
Meeting his gaze, I nod. “Yeah. I’m a little understaffed at the bakery. Sometimes it’s just easier to stay late and play catch-up by myself.” Glancing pointedly at the stack of papers on his desk, I offer a slight smile and add, “I don’t have to tell you that, though.”
Smiling faintly, he nods, glancing at the papers. “Yeah, there’s really no rest for the wicked, is there?”
“I’ll defer to your expert opinion on that,” I tell him before taking another little sip.
He laughs, grabbing his own glass.
“No Adrian tonight?” I ask.
Watching the alcohol in his glass, his amusement lessens. “No. Elise was fawning over me at dinner, so he’s pissed off at me again.”
I can’t help rolling my eyes. “You’ve gotta stop toying with her. She’s going to be his soon enough. Stop alienating him.”
“Can’t help it,” he murmurs. He doesn’t even sound happy about it, and it strikes the same sympathetic heartstrings that had me defending him to Salvatore just a little while ago.
I take a bigger gulp of my drink, sadness weighing on me. Now I’m not just sad for me, or even for me and Sal, now I’m feeling a little blue for Mateo, too. He’s such a disaster. I don’t know how someone so capable and successful can be such a horrendous mess on the inside.
“You should start dating again,” I tell him, suddenly.
He glances up at me, raising an eyebrow. “That’s random.”
“You’re less destructive when you’re in a relationship.”
His lips curve up in faint amusement. “Ah, so you have an ulterior motive for this suggestion.”
“No,” I drawl, rolling my eyes. “My life is boring, there’s not much you can wreck for me.” I manage to spit out this bold-face lie somehow, and I almost feel like I deserve a pat on the back. “But I also want you to be happier than you are, and you’d be happier if someone loved you again.”
“Until they didn’t anymore,” he says lightly.
That’s true; Mateo doesn’t take the end of relationships very well. It might not be worth the temporary peace an actual relationship would bring all of us. I’m a little afraid of what’s going to happen when Adrian leaves.
I drink more.
I realize my alcohol is gone, so I get up and grab the decanter, bringing it to the desk to save myself a trip later. He watches as I pour some more alcohol into both our glasses, then smiles when I immediately start drinking it without delay.
“Is it the bakery or my love life that’s driving you to drink?”
I swallow it down, grimacing. I wish he’d keep bottles of water in here for those of us who try to drink this shit and realize it’s a bad idea.